To Teach the Fallen
by Darkness Incarnated
Summary: "Enjoy your time on Earth, boy." Nakir is an angel. Or at least, he was. After dabbling in Hell-ish arts, the young mute is cast from his place as gate keeper to Earth. Afraid and left without his angelic abilities, the boy is expected to supply for himself in a world he doesn't understand. That is, until he's found by a certain clueless angel.


_I only own Nakir. (And the plot…) Nothing else._

…_Though a girl _can_ dream…_

**To Teach the Fallen**

**Prologue**

**Those who Fall**

The stoic faces glared from their perches far above his head. The eyes so decorated in a sparkling film of violent glee portraying the boy's sentence before he was ever even damned. The teenaged looking form wanted to laugh, an angel, damned. It held a sick sort of irony; that those so holy, so untouchable could fall so far.

The crimson-haired angel was to be taken from Heaven, striped of his grace, and left as the lower species he so despised. He fervently wished the council had simply saved him the humiliation and just stabbed him through the chest with his own silvered blade. At the very least, it would save him from the horrified and even crazed looks of joy from his peers.

"Nakir, Angel of the Lord. For crimes committed against Heaven and Father, you shall be stripped of your grace and cast to the humans. You are now bared from Heaven and may never return." The angel grinned viciously; his lips pulling back into what the boy could only describe as a snarl. Another of his accuser mimicked the sneer.

"One step closer to those whom you seem to enjoy dealing with, eh?" Nakir growled lowly in his throat at the angel. The man responded by flapping large, white wings harshly; emitting a gust of wind that nearly knocked the smaller boy flat.

Fumbling, Nakir regained his footing. Crimson irises slunk to the floor as the young angel was embraced by an incessant fear that gnawed away at what composure remained in the tiny figure. The words made what the boy already new more real.

A large, white haired angel approached from his left and the boy flinched away as a familiar blade was pressed against his throat. In response to the unintentional movement, the guard grabbed a fistful of waist-length hair and yanked Nakir back, swiftly drawing the blade thinly across the younger angel's throat.

Nakir gasped sharply, hands twitching as he refrained from touching the wound. A light, blue-ish glow appeared and the boy gave a soft cry as his grace was suckled away from him and into a small bottle. As the lid snapped shut, the larger angel gave a swift yank on Nakir's hair, sending the now mortal teenager to the floor.

A bright pain erupted in the boy's skull as his head made hard contact with the floor, spots dancing in and out of vision due to the harsh impact. Nakir reached out subconsciously for the soothing lull of his power, but none of the holy warmth was evident. The red-head fisted a hand in his shirt, next to his heart, frightened by the sudden space of emptiness.

Wide bloodshot eyes darted to the angel sitting head at the round table.

"Enjoy your time on Earth, _boy_." The words were daunting and Nakir seemed to grasp the vastness of his situation. He wasn't a field agent. He'd never been on Earth. The closest _he'd_ come to humans were the dead ones that he scanned the memories of. A fresh wave of terror washed over his features, but before the mortal could seriously contemplate begging to stay, the floor caved in and the boy was falling head first through clouds.

Rather than the fear that would have accompanied any _sane _angel to the ground, Nakir relished in the blissful feeling of soaring; of flying. Even as an angel, flying wasn't something most could do. In fact, Nakir couldn't name anyone he knew personally that could fly. It was always teleportation.

Closing his eyes against the nearing ground, Nakir left out a long breath and spread his arms, enjoying the sharp tug on the tips of his fingers. Abruptly forcing away the euphoria came land.

Headfirst, Nakir hit the ground, releasing a sharp squealing noise upon impact. He could feel the earth buckle below him and the boy couldn't help but wish he could fall through one more level. Hell seemed more appealing than Earth.

With a final, fleeting hope of death, crimson eyes slid shut.

_Reviews would be so so so appreciated. Like, immensely._


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